The Heartbreaker
by MistakenIllusion
Summary: Her New Year's Resolution is to become a renowned heartbreaker. Despite having help from the likes of Ino, does she have what it takes to become a ruthless playgirl? She'll give it a shot. Because every girl wants to be wanted. AU. SakuMulti.
1. Madness

**The Heartbreaker**

_All hail the heartbreaker. Because every girl wants to be wanted._

* * *

**Chapter 1: Madness**

'You've got blood on your forehead, Sakura. You haven't joined a cult, have you?'

They're in a _very_ busy club, so no one would notice if she were to accidentally-on-purpose throw her drink in his face for his insolence. But unfortunately for her, Sasuke is the bartender, so he has the upper hand. And her drink is so bloody _expensive, _it'd be a waste.

Well, the sooner she explains herself, the sooner they can move off-topic.

'It's _lipstick,_ Sasuke.'

_'Why?'_

She sighs. 'Ino decided to give me a New Year's Resolution. The reputation I need to have gained by the end of the year. And she wrote it on my forehead so I wouldn't forget.'

She wipes it with the back of her hand. It doesn't budge. She sighs, again. Ino really got her money's worth when her lipstick said it was 'long-lasting'.

Sasuke snorts. 'And you've got to be a _heartbreaker?_'

He's not saying that because he thinks she's ugly. God, he _knows _she's not. But she's the stereotypical sweetheart. The good girl you settle down with, not the bad girl you run for your life to avoid. Her clothes are proof – bar her face, neck and hands, every inch of skin is hidden beneath opaque fabric.

Sakura frowns. 'I resent that! I could be a great one if I tried!'

'You don't have it in you. There's no one _less _likely to become one.'

Sakura narrows her eyes at him. _Bring it on._

'Just for that, Sasuke, you'll be my first _victim.'_

She kisses him on the cheek and leaves, in pursuit of 'her girls'.

Sasuke rubs his eyes to make sure he really _is _awake, and what just happened actually _did _just happen.

* * *

'Come on, Forehead, I need to give you a makeover if you're going to do this.'

_'Ino,' _she protests. She wants to be a _heartbreaker, _not a _tramp. _There's a distinct difference.

'You can't get hordes guys falling for you looking like _that. _I mean, you're gorgeous, but you're a freaking _nun.'_

'But –'

'Just give it a chance, Sakura. If it doesn't work, I'll leave you in peace to catch them in your spider's web.'

'OK – wait, _what?'_

* * *

'Hot girl alert!' Kiba wolf-whistles, much to the annoyance of his friends, forced to share a _bench _with this obnoxious guy.

But he notices that no one disagrees. And they sit up a little straighter when they realise said hot girl is _walking towards them._

'I didn't know we had new kids arriving.'

'We don't.'

Kiba chokes on his drink.

'Holy shit – _Sakura?'_

And surreptitiously wipes away the drool at the corner of his mouth.

Everyone else does a double-take. But then again, when the guys put their eyes back in, they realise it was obvious. No one else has hair _that _pink.

Ino shoots her an I-told-you-so look.

Sakura ignores her, stretching her arms out. This causes her shirt to strain against her chest, much to the appreciation of the male population. At least she drew the line at hair and make-up. Who knew looking like this would require so much _effort?_

'Your boobs are hanging out.'

_'Ino...'_

'They're looking cracking, babe.'

Ino smirks. Sakura visibly cringes.

'Come on, Forehead – you know you owe me.'

Sakura grumbles in defeat. _Being a million times sluttier it is, then._

* * *

**There's a lot of versatility available in this story - any requests? :L**


	2. Boys Like Girls

**Chapter 2: Boys Like Girls**

'Take back what you said yet, Sasuke?'

'No.'

'You don't like what you see?' She pouts. And then feels slightly repulsed at herself for wanting him to be so shallow.

He looks her up and down. A shiver creeps down her spine. She's not sure if it's in disgust or delight.

'You scrub up well,' he concedes, 'but that doesn't mean anything, yet.'

'Just you wait, Uchiha.'

'I wouldn't count on it.'

* * *

'What do you think you're _doing,_ Sakura?'

Sometimes there's just no escape.

She looks at Ino like she's grown an extra head. 'Studying?' She gestures to the books in her arms for emphasis. 'Becoming a doctor won't happen on its own, you know.'

She thinks that you shouldn't have to spell it out. But sometimes her blonde friend can be so..._blonde._

Ino shakes her head, throwing her head back to laugh at Sakura's obliviousness. 'You can go without it for one night, Forehead. But _today, _your focus is to get ahead in the game.'

Sakura pauses, contemplating the – however unlikely – possibility that she might be..._right?_

_What is this world coming to?_

Ino smirks, satisfied that she's talked sense into this girl, who is brilliant and all, but such an _innocent. _Sometimes she wonders why she's friends with her. Until exam season, when she is forced to remember the benefits of 'studying' with her pet nerd, or face the panic of a hippopotamus learning ballet overnight.

'I can't believe you just said those words non-ironically, Pig.'

'You know you love me.'

_Sigh._

Before she can open her mouth to protest, she's being shoved into the common room.

It's like a jungle in there. Rows and rows of _boys, boys, boys. _Throwing things around like chimpanzees. Savagely attacking each other like lions. She swears she can hear a hyena laugh.

And it absolutely terrifies her.

'Go get 'em, tiger.'

Maybe she should stop giving in all the time. She'd get so much more done.

* * *

'Where have you been hiding away all this time, Sakura? I mean – forgive me for saying this – but _damn...'_

It makes her skin crawl. Not the fact that she's being spoken to like a piece of ass. But the fact that she's not bothered by it – dare she say, almost _flattered._

'Kiba! Do not speak to the beautiful Sakura in such a degrading way!'

'Shut up, Lee. You know only Naruto can pull the good-guy act on her.'

_Someone kill me, now._

She wonders if Ino expects her to go along with the stereotypical bimbo act and giggle and simper sweetly. But she's really too smart for that bullshit.

'Are you _panting, _Kiba?' She tries not to look disgusted.

He winks at her and howls like a wolf.

She smacks him round the head. This by no means deters him.

'I know you want me, Haruno – just you wait!'

'Catch me if you can!'

'Challenge accepted!'

* * *

'What the hell are you doing, Forehead?'

Sakura wishes her friend would try harder (or take classes) to master the highly underrated art of subtlety. And not blow her cover. And follow her lead when she replies with a toned-down _whisper._

'Playing _Seven Minutes in Heaven – _what does it freaking _look like, _Ino?'

It's very tempting to add the words 'you idiot' onto the end of that sentence.

'It looks like you're hiding in a storage cupboard.'

'You hit the nail right on the head, genius.'

'Remember what I told you, Forehead. Have you already fallen at the first hurdle?'

'But guys are so _sleazy.'_

She doesn't care that she sounds like a whining baby. Whining babies don't have to put up with perverted adolescent males with more hormones than brain cells. All that testosterone is too intimidating.

'Then beat them at their own game.'

'What?'

'Figure it out, Forehead.' She slips in a sly wink.

Sakura does not like where this was going.

'Inuzuka, she's in here!'

Yep, just as she feared.

'And that's my cue to leave.'

'Ino, don't you dare...'

But it's too late. She's trapped in a small, dark storage cupboard. With Kiba.

She tries the door.

It's locked.

* * *

_'Damn, _Sakura, even _I _didn't think you had the hots for me _this _much.'

_Really? Because your ego would say otherwise._

'I'm not in the mood.'

'Lighten up.'

_'Shut_ up.'

Thankfully, he does.

'And kiss me.'

He pauses for a moment, wondering where the hell those words came from. She briefly wonders the same thing. And then decides she doesn't care.

After all, she's curious to see how good a kisser he is. And what better way is there than this, in order to find out?

He willingly complies.

She's pressed up against the wall. His hands slide down to her waist. Her legs hook around him.

And his kisses are as full-on as he is. When his lips touch hers, she can taste their hunger. She likes the confidence, the attack. And finds herself responding on contact. Because she _really _likes it. Seriously, why don't people kiss more often? It's great.

She can't remember her name. Where she is. Why she's doing this. She just knows she doesn't want it to stop. And judging by the lust-filled growl at the back of his throat, neither does he.

Her legs tighten round his waist.

He nips her earlobe.

She laughs.

'Whoa, down boy!'

Her sudden outburst reminds her to _breathe_ before she faints. Good lifesaving mechanism, that.

He shrugs at her. Although she can't see a thing, she's _sure _there's a cocky grin fixed in place.

'I _like _this new Sakura.'

_So do I._

And they go right back to what they were doing before.

Somewhere in the distance, a bell rings.

_Shit._

'I've always liked you, Sakura,' he murmurs drowsily into her neck. It tickles.

She smiles. Buttons up her shirt. Pulls her skirt down.

'This doesn't mean we're dating.'

Her voice is stern. To avoid misconceptions.

'Right.'

Good. He agrees with her.

Who knew this would be so _simple?_ There are endless books, songs and films dedicated to the unnecessary complications that seem to arise, following this sort of thing. She doesn't understand why. Why so many people would make the same mistake over something that is so _easily _resolved.

It was just a bit of fun. They're just friends. Nothing else can happen, or it'll make things...awkward.

That's definitely not what she's aiming for.

The door opens with a loud _click. _Sakura's sure she hears a distant distinctive cackle, too.

They stumble out of the cupboard, like drunk people who've had a bucket of ice-cold water chucked over them. Blinking at the sudden brightness of light.

She turns to him. He's looking every bit as hot and flustered as she felt in there.

'If anyone asks, I broke your heart, OK?'

'OK,' _so obedient, _'but only if this happens again.'

She smirks. She'll still need to recover from _that. _Unless her lung capacity increases substantially.

'We'll see.'

They walk in opposite directions. She laughs as she does so, thinking about how much of a cliché it is, to make out with someone you barely know – even if he _is _hot – in a locked cupboard during your lunch hour. She can definitely see what all the hype is about. And to think she nearly spent her time _studying, _instead.

Little does she know that _someone else_ saw them emerging from behind the locked door.


	3. The Pretty Reckless

**Chapter 3: The Pretty Reckless**

A familiar face hands her a coffee from behind the Starbucks counter.

'Sasuke! How many jobs does one guy need?'

'I need the money.'

She nods. That's a good enough answer. That's all Sasuke is. Reasonable. Sensible.

_Boring._

And she used to have a _crush _on this guy?

He's looking at her, clearly wanting to say something else. This had better not be about the resolution, again. He hasn't shut up about it, ever since he found out. Telling him was a _big _mistake.

'What were you doing, messing around with Inuzuka, Tuesday lunch?'

He knows _way _too many details to be making a lucky guess. He must've seen – but _how? _She just knows it's useless to deny it.

She flushes. And narrows her eyes, closely inspecting his name badge.

'What are you doing, Sakura?'

'Looking for written consent, saying it's any of your business. And I don't see it.'

He rolls his eyes. God, she's _annoying, _sometimes.

'So are you guys going out?'

_No. _But she decides to tease him, first.

'Jealous, are we?'

He just gives her a bored look. _Because he's no fun._

'I'm just taking the piss. But mark my words – I'll make you crack, Uchiha.'

She kisses him on the cheek and walks out the cafe.

She doesn't see him carefully touching his cheek as the door shuts behind her.

* * *

'Do you want to come round, tonight?'

'What are you _insinuating?'_

'In your _dreams,_ Sakura. But we need to get this project done tonight, so we may as well do it at my house.'

'Lighten up, Sasuke, I was joking. Maybe after we finish, I'll teach you to have a sense of humour!'

Her face creases up in laughter. She pinches his cheek – something she's done ever since they were kids, when she found out how much it annoys him.

'I don't know why I put up with you.'

'Because you love me.'

'Clearly, not as much as you love yourself.'

He tries and fails to keep the amusement out of his voice.

* * *

_Ding-dong._

An older, taller Sasuke answers the door. He smiles flirtatiously at her.

'You're hot.'

_Not _Sasuke, then.

'Sasuke?'

She has to be sure.

He sighs. 'My brother gets _all _the luck.'

She rolls her eyes, like she's fed up of this sort of attention. He doesn't need to know that she's secretly thrilled.

'That's bullshit. And you're a paedophile.'

'What?'

Clearly, this guy is used to people being more appreciative when he gives them this sort of attention.

But it's more fun to play with him.

'I'm fifteen.'

His jaw drops.

* * *

'Save me, Sasuke!' She flings her arms round his neck, dramatically.

'Geroff, you're completely mental!'

'Knock-knock.'

'What do you want, Itachi?'

'Just making sure you're not doing anything dodgy. I want this door to remain _open. _And not because I'm a _pervert –' _he looks at Sakura, who sniggers '– but because I don't want to have to explain anything awkward to our parents.'

'Itachi...' Sasuke whines.

So he gets embarrassed, too. Maybe he's human, after all.

As soon as his brother's a safe distance away, Sakura opens up with an old joke. 'Is that your brother? He's _fit.'_

He just glares at her. And remembers.

_'Who's that in the car, Sasuke? He looks just like you!'_

_'I resent that – he looks _way _older than me.'_

_'Is that your brother? He's _fit!'

_He frowns at her. She sighs dramatically._

_'But not as cute as _you,'_ she chimes cheerfully._

_'Better.'_

'Ahah, it's so funny to wind you up, Sasuke.'

'Don't blame me if my brother starts stalking you.'

* * *

She almost jumps when she sees older Sasu – when she sees _Itachi _again.

And judging by the flicker of recognition in his eyes, walking past and ignoring him is not an option. _Damn this pink hair._

'Itachi.'

'Sakura.'

'Sasuke's staying at Naruto's, tonight.'

'Actually, I came here to talk to _you.'_

She gulps.

'Why?'

'You were lying, yesterday. You're seventeen.'

_Damn Sasuke._

'You're twenty-one.' Two can play at that game.

'And?'

'You're too old for me.'

'Don't you like older men, Sakura?'

_As of now – yes, yes, yes!_ She tries to tune out the voices of her stupid raging hormones.

Because she has to remain cool and composed. Like a cucumber.

'I like _men._' Deliberately dodging his question.

He raises an eyebrow in amusement.

'How about I give you a lift home?' He gestures towards his car. A _Porsche, _she can't help noticing. She's never been in one, before. Hell, she's never known anyone who _owns _one, either. But again, it's better for her to downplay the excitement.

'In your creepy white van? I don't accept things from strangers.'

'Ouch. I won't do anything – Sasuke would rip my balls off if I did.'

She manages to disguise her snort as a cough. A word like 'balls' seems out of place, coming out of a seemingly sophisticated Uchiha's mouth. It's even better than that time she walked in on Sasuke playing video games, shouting 'fuck you, Mario!' and scratching his head like a confused gorilla.

'I'm not convinced.'

'I'm sure I can change your mind, Sakura.'

That's when she realises where they are. _Behind the bike shed. _She knows what _that _means.

He smirks, clearly thinking the same thing. And pounces on her, before she can protest.

Not that she does. She succumbs to his touch.

His lingering kisses are more assured than Kiba's. She follows his lead, confident in what she's doing. Yesterday, she was just improvising.

She finds herself in that all-too familiar situation.

Forgetting who you are.

What you're doing.

How to breathe.

After leaving a trail of kisses down her neck, he whispers huskily into her ear.

'So how about I don't take you home – and we finish this at _my _place?'

She takes a second to wonder if she has _fuck me_ written on her face. But she's too caught up in the moment to care.

_Why the hell not?_

* * *

After all, who better to hook up with than a _stranger? _Strangers make everything less complicated. It doesn't matter if you walk away from them and never see them again – in fact, it's _expected. _Because you have no emotional requirements. So all awkwardness can be avoided.

And strangers are mysterious. Dangerous. Exciting.

She wonders why it took so long to pull the stick out her ass. Loosening up is...it's..._brilliant._

'What do you do to me, Sakura?'

_Don't. Talk._

_Daydream. Dematerialising._

'You were my first kiss, you know.'

Sakura can't help but prove their age difference. By sniggering immaturely at the hidden implications of what he's done whilst he's _not kissed _anyone.

'Dirty bastard.'

'That's not what I meant. Just my first...everything.'

'But you're an Uchiha! You're twenty-one!'

He shrugs. 'Just hadn't found the right girl.'

She doesn't like where this is going.

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. He feels her flinch, and steers the conversation away from this, before he finds himself moving too fast for her.

It's not his fault. He's at that point in his life when he's past the phase of wanting to fool around.

'When can I see you again?'

No, no, _no. _This is _not _how it's meant to go.

She runs out that door, as fast as her legs will carry her.

What was she _thinking, _anyway, having a one night stand with the _brother _of one of her best friends?


	4. Muse

**Chapter 4: Muse**

'Tramp.'

'Whore.'

'Slut.'

She's not sure if these whispers are _really _following her, but they may as well be. It's exactly how she feels.

It doesn't help that Ino picks up on this right away.

'Spill it, Forehead. I demand to know the details.'

'What are you on about?'

'Don't play dumb with me. You saw the signs with me and Sai. You're wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Your hair's a mess. You _stink _of sex. You got _laid!'_

Silence.

Followed by a loud squeal – Ino's squeal.

'Who popped your cherry?' She laughs at her own joke.

'I don't want anyone knowing, OK?'

'My lips are sealed. So spill.'

Sakura mutters something under her breath, bracing herself for another piercing shriek. Which soon follows.

'Shut _up! _Sasuke's _brother?'_

Sakura covers her mouth with her hand before she can say anything else at that obscenely loud volume. She instantly regrets pulling her hand away.

'I have to tell Hinata!'

_'Ino!'_

'Kidding! Lighten up!'

* * *

There are so spare seats in the common room when she arrives. So she sits on Kiba's lap. She may as well.

Although he doesn't protest, he doesn't smile at her warmly like he usually does. Quite the opposite, in fact. He glowers.

'What the hell is wrong with you?'

'Nothing.'

'Bullshit. Don't fuck with me, Kiba – the mood I'm in, I'll take you out, I swear.'

'Fuck _with _you?'

'That's what I said.'

'Not _fuck_ you?'

She snarls at him. 'You're being disgusting.'

'Oh, _I'm _disgusting?'

'Stop repeating what I say and _get to the point!'_

He grunts. But nevertheless explains himself.

'Rumour has it that you shagged Uchiha's brother.'

_Oh God. _'Who's been saying that?'

_Because I swear, if it's Ino..._

'Uchiha.'

'I am going to _kill _him.'

'So did you?'

'Oh, I am _not _having this conversation with _you.'_

It's none of his business. Not _anyone's _business but hers and Itachi's. Why the hell did _he _have to get his brother involved?

And she wants to know, why the hell does _Kiba _care? They made out – once. That was all there was to it. She never promised anything more. He knew that.

She storms off, fuming. She can almost see steam gushing out of her ears.

But this is not apparent to anyone who's not her friend. To the ordinary outsider, she just walks on by, with more of a strut than your average girl.

Despite how mad he is, Kiba can't help but remark thoughtfully, 'Is it me, or is she even hotter when she's angry?'

* * *

_Thwack!_

She slaps him round the face before he even says hello.

'You have no more than ten words and ten seconds to explain yourself. Choose wisely.'

Sasuke winces at the pain in his cheek – damn that girl can _slap! _ But he knows better than to cross the line with Sakura in one of these moods.

'You messed him up. He won't shut up about you.'

She frowns. This is not what she wanted. Complications like this are the reasons she used to avoid relationships like the plague.

It's not like she's doing anything wrong. She likes boys – she likes _lots _of boys. And she's not going to give them the wrong idea.

It's like with recent events. She likes both Kiba _and _Itachi. She wants them both. She wants them to want her. That can only happen if neither of them have her. And they'll take whatever she's willing to give – no more, no less.

She can't think of the right words to say, so she just shakes her head. And hopes Sasuke understands.

'If you didn't want these consequences, you shouldn't have let him screw you senseless.'

She wrinkles her nose. 'Don't be so vulgar, Sasuke.'

'That's what he said. He's my brother, what did you expect?'

'You _believed _him?'

These words silence him.

Inner Sakura congratulates herself for saving her own ass so spontaneously.

It's not that she's _ashamed _of what she does. But she's not an idiot. She knows what people would think, if they knew. She knew it'd make life that much harder for her. And they don't need to know. It's none of their business. As far as she's concerned, if it's kept strictly under wraps, no one needs to get hurt.

All without telling a single lie. She didn't directly say _I didn't have sex with your brother. _She just followed up his question with another question. Pretty smoothly, she'd like to add.

Sasuke has the grace to look ashamed. 'I'm sorry, Sakura. It's just, he's my _brother...'_

Not wanting to hear anymore, she leaves in the middle of his sentence, wanting to be on her own.

* * *

The toilets are unhygienic, and there's nowhere else that's always empty. She hasn't set foot in the art rooms since she was thirteen. When it was compulsory.

So what she expects is to be able to sit in a quiet corner and cry until her heart's content. And not even needing to know why she's crying or how this will affect her, but just letting it happen.

You can imagine why she gets the fright of her life when someone kneels next to her and breaks the silence.

'Are you OK?'

_What does it look like?_

'Don't look at me. I'm hideous.' She manages a watery laugh.

'Let me be the judge of that.'

He pulls her arms away from her face, letting them fall to her sides. Wipes her damp face with his sleeve. Then he smiles down at her.

She can't help but smile back.

'Much better,' he muses out loud. 'Now, do you want to talk about it?'

'Not really, you'll just judge me.'

He laughs. 'Cautious? Good choice. But I've already started judging you.'

She narrows her eyes.

'For example, this –'

He takes hold of a lock of her hair.

'– is pink. Ergo it cannot possibly be natural.'

His laughter is contagious.

She finds herself arguing back, as opposed to ignoring him. 'You can't talk, yours is pillar-box red!'

'The lady doth protest too much, methinks. But it's good to see you smiling – you're a lot prettier when you do.'

So much for guys liking the pouty, mysterious look. She makes a mental note to smile more often, if it will get such a good reaction.

'Why are you talking to me? I don't even know you.' She appreciates that he does, but it's a bit unusual. Stranger danger, and all.

'This is true. I wouldn't usually, but you're so pretty, I couldn't help myself.'

She laughs at how sickly sweet that is.

'And it's always a man's duty to protect a damsel in distress.'

_Why can't all guys be like this?_

'You sound like you were born in the wrong century. Chivalry is dead.'

'I will prove you wrong. May I enquire your name, fair maiden?'

He tries to bow to her, which is difficult when they're both sat down on the floor. She covers her mouth to prevent any audible traces of exploding giggles.

'Sakura. Now you tell me yours.'

'Sasori. So we're not strangers anymore, are we?'

'You _tricked _me!' But she admires his wit.

'I am deeply hurt you would accuse me of such endeavours. It's not my fault that it's not often I find someone else in here.'

'Sorry for intruding.' She shrugs apologetically.

'Oh, don't get me wrong – it was a pleasant surprise – but if you excuse me, I'm afraid I have work to do.'

She watches him pull a giant sketchbook out from his bag, and rows and rows of delicate art materials. If she's honest, it looks all well and good, but she's always found it boring – slaving for hours and hours over some pathetic canvas that looks nothing like anything. So she stays where she is, fidgeting a little.

Sasori doesn't say another word to her as he's working. She sees the focus and drive in his face as the blurs of his motions seem mechanical. There's nothing sexier at that very second than a man who knows what he's doing. And what he wants.

She leans over his shoulder to observe, carefully making sure her hair brushes his shoulder. She feels his breaths quicken in response the contact.

He's working through pages and pages of complex-looking diagrams, of ratios and proportions of body parts. They all look the same to her, but watching his growing frustration, there's something about them that continues to dissatisfy him.

'Why are there so many?'

He jumps out of his trance. Turns to look at her. 'I can't. Seem. To. Get. The. Dimensions. Right.' There's a sharp stab of his pencil at the end of every sentence for emphasis.

She nods, pretending she understands.

He turns again, sharply. Facing her, like he's only just noticed her presence.

He starts muttering – she's not sure if it's to her or to himself.

Intense.

'I wonder if you could – no, I can't –'

'What is it?'

'Well, would it be weird if I were to ask you – as a friend – for a favour?'

'Explain to me what _kind _of favour we're talking about, here.'

'Oh no – nothing like that!' he quickly justifies.

'Again, I am still none the wiser.' She sticks her tongue out to let him know she's only teasing.

Which she's gotten quite good at, lately.

'Well, because you're quite pretty –'

_Flattery is a good start, _she thinks approvingly.

'– so I was wondering if you'd be able to model for me? Just for tonight, so I can correct my dimensions.'

Which makes it sound platonic.

But she finds herself saying, 'Sure.'

She needs a break from guys right now, and something like this seems perfect.

...oh, wait.

* * *

**Thank you so much for sticking with this so far. Reviews are greatly appreciated ;)**


	5. Green Day

**Chapter 5: Green Day**

'Are you trying to tell me you hooked up with the art hottie that is verbally constipated?'

Something in Ino's tone reveals that she is undoubtedly impressed. Sakura's blonde friend doubts even _she _could pull of something like this.

Sakura frowns. 'No.'

An exasperated sigh from both parties.

'Are you kidding me? It's been _months _since you've done anything with another guy. Not since – '

Sakura holds up her hand to stop her right there, before she touches a nerve. She doesn't know what's happened to her flirting energy, but it has just _plummeted._

It's just one of those things. You see someone else do the deed, and execute it flawlessly. You decide to give it a go. And once you do, you realise it's not that great, and a lot more trouble and effort than it's worth.

That is why, since the fiasco with the two boys that _will not be mentioned by name, _she has thrown herself into her studies. And maintaining solid friendships. Surely _they _are more important than cheap flings?

'So what exactly did you do all evening?'

'I just lay there on his sofa while he was drawing and stuff. We talked a bit, but he was pretty into his work.'

'You've always liked a guy with a work ethic. And a guy that knows what he wants.'

A disapproving frown emerges. 'When I meet a guy, the first thing I do is _not _necessarily assess his boyfriend potential, Pig. That's shallow.'

Ino clears her throat – very deliberately.

'Except when it's _you,' _she corrects herself. Hastily.

'Better. So again, why haven't you sunken your claws into him?'

She winces at the imagery. And struggles to find an answer.

There is _one_ answer. But she's not sure it's the right one. And it's most definitely one she doesn't want to admit out loud. Good friends aren't meant to judge, but even Ino has her limits.

Well, she may as well spit it out. She knows she dug herself right into this one.

'There's got to be a link. Kiba (she winces slightly when she says his name) was my friend. Itachi (another wince) was a friend's brother. If I went after some guy who's got no connection to me whatsoever, I'd feel like a common skank.'

Thankfully, after a few awkward weeks, she and Kiba were once again on speaking terms. But she still tries to not talk to him if she can help it. It's the way things are, after you cross a line. Alas.

Ino raises a mocking eyebrow. 'You say that like it's undesirable, being the common skank.'

'You can't say that, you've got a boyfriend!'

'Which one?'

_'The _one.'

She sticks her tongue out at this cliché. They both snigger.

'But that doesn't explain the monstrosity of nunnery you've chosen to wear, today.'

'It's just jeans and a t-shirt.'

'But nothing's on show.'

'That's the point.'

'Forehead...'

'Can't I leave something to the imagination? I feel naked when I dress like you. And they've seen enough, already – enough to put them off their breakfast.'

'I know what's going on, Forehead. You're planning on chickening out.'

Well, she can't deny that one. As much as she'd like to insist that she never gives up on a challenge.

Ino takes a protesting Sakura's face in her hands, forcing them to face each other.

'Repeat after me. I – '

'Ino...'

She gets the _look _as a response. She sighs at the silent guilt trip. _Damn my stupid morals._

'I...'

'Am.'

'Am...'

'Incredibly sexy and completely capable of excelling in this challenge.'

She visibly _cringes. _Who the hell in their right mind can call themselves sexy and take themselves seriously afterwards?

'I'm serious, Forehead.'

She giggles.

'Sakura!'

Stupid friends with stupid intimidating personalities.

'Incredubsexyandcompetentandyaddayadda.'

An anguished sigh is omitted from her friend's heavily glossed lips.

'That'll have to do.'

* * *

'Sakura!'

She turns on instinct upon hearing her name. A distinctive shade of red wonders into her midst.

'Oh, hey Sasori.'

'Hey.'

'How are you?'

Pause. Could she have asked a more awkward question?

'I'm good. You?'

'I'm alright, thanks.'

'I just wanted to say thanks again for helping me out.'

'It's alright.'

More silence. She feels under pressure to make conversation. But she has no idea what to ask. It's awkward when you have to _make _yourself make conversation.

'Well, good to see you.'

'You, too.'

She turns her back on him.

'Wait!'

She raises her eyebrow, questioningly. A small box falls into her hands.

'To say thank you,' he explains.

She smiles in thanks. Even though it's very unusual, for almost-strangers to be so generous with presents.

* * *

'Hello, stranger.'

'Hey, Sakura, I...' Sasuke runs a hand through his hair in discomfort.

Her face falls.

'Look, Sakura...I know it's a weird thing to say, and I haven't brought it up in a while, but my brother asked about you. Again.'

_Shit._

She swallows. It's weird, having to choose her words so carefully around a close friend. But this is a sketchy subject, and she doesn't want to say more than she needs to.

Let's ignore the fact that she's _ashamed _of what went down.

'Something happened. I want to know what. I know my brother – he wouldn't be so worked up, otherwise.'

She winces. This is painful to hear, painful to talk about.

'That bad, huh? What did he do to you?'

Her eyes widen in surprise. She's known this boy long enough to know how deeply their family loyalty lies. And he's siding with _her?_

He stares at her, waiting for an answer. She shakes her head in response. 'Nothing.'

'Is it by any chance anything like what happened with your dad – '

'Stop right there,' she firmly commands.

He shrugs apologetically, knowing he's crossed a line. 'You can tell me if you think of anything, you know. I told him to stay the hell away from you.'

That earns him one of her rare smiles. In gratitude. This makes things a lot easier.

Watching his retreating back, she can't help but feel a stab of guilt. What if she's started to drive a wedge between them?

And that's why she's glad she stopped where she did. As long as it won't come back to haunt her.

* * *

Curiosity gets the better of her.

She's allowed Sasori's present to be Schrodinger's cat for the day. But she really _has to _find out what it is, before she turns off the lights to mark the end of another day.

It could be anything. Who knows the sorts of things artists give as presents? It's too small to be a painting. And anything passes for art, these days.

The box opens. A small wooden doll – no bigger than the palm of her hand – falls softly onto the mattress.

She picks it up gingerly between her forefinger and thumb. Each slope, each curve of a limb – it's anatomically perfect, to every last detail. There's no doubt that this is a masterpiece, that Sasori – bless him – has slaved away for _hours_ to create this.

Then something strikes her. The pink tresses on this doll end at the exact point on its collarbone as _her_ hair on _her _collarbone. The delicately-shaped fingers match the unique structure of _her _hand. And the unblinking expression on this doll is undeniably _her _distinctive look. This replica is perfect. It's...

_Scary._

She drops it like it burns her.

Too much attention to detail.

Too creepy for words.

_Please God, don't let there be a hidden camera inside it._

Picking up the nearest strip of fabric – her scarf – she uses it as a barrier between her hand and that _thing_ as she carefully places it on the shelf. As far away from her as is humanly possible. She can't take it out of the room without waking someone.

Its wide green eyes bore straight into her skull.

* * *

**Read and review, and I'll love you :3**


	6. All Time Low

**Chapter 6: All Time Low**

'You look like crap.'

This remark is met with a stone-cold glare. Sometimes, boys can be so insensitive.

'Thanks, Sasuke, I hadn't noticed.'

He has the grace to look sheepish. 'Sorry...'

'If you must know, I haven't been able to sleep, lately.'

'How come?'

'Dolls have creepy eyes.'

'...?'

She explains everything when her words only induce a severely confused look. She even shows him a picture.

'That _is _kind of creepy. So why don't you get rid of it?'

A mumble escapes her lips, her eyes glued to the floor.

'Come again?'

'It'd be rude, because it was a present.'

He flicks her forehead.

'OW!'

'That's what you get for being an idiot.'

'Takes one to know one.'

'You've become a complete walkover this year, Haruno.'

Pause to take in what he said.

'Say that again. I dare you.' _So I can punch you in the face._

'Friends are meant to tell each other the truth, is all. I liked the way you were before.'

She scowls. 'People change. You have to deal with the way I am _now.'_

He just smirks at her, much to her dismay. Like he's proved something.

'This is all Ino's doing, I reckon. That dare will be the death of you.'

'You're laughing at me.'

'You think?'

'I hate you.'

'Really? My heart's _breaking. _Seriously.'

So he still remembers the empty threat she made on New Year's Day. She barely remembers it herself.

'Just you wait, because soon enough, I'll – QUICK, HIDE ME!'

She dives behind him before he can protest. A boy with flame-red hair walks past. Fortunately, not the much-feared artist.

That was close.

Sasuke doesn't need to say anything. Or even make a noise. His amused face is more than enough to earn him an 'oh, shut up' and a punch in the arm.

* * *

'Sakura!'

She jumps. Unfortunately, with hair as distinctive as hers, she can't pretend to be someone else. So she slowly turns around. _Please don't let it be, please don't let it be..._

It's Sasori. Is there no escaping this guy?

'Hey.'

'Hey.'

Silence. Awkward. She doesn't have a single thing to say to this guy. Because although he's sweet and creative and – let's face it – has pretty sexy hair, it doesn't go beyond that. She's been kinda-sorta-maybe avoiding him because otherwise he will try to talk to her, and he is just – well – _boring._

He clears his throat.

'Erm...sorry to corner you like this...I was just wondering what your answer was.'

Well, that's _one _example of a worthy conversation starter. One that confuses the hell out of her.

'What are you on about?'

_Nice. Smooth. Way to look like you know what you're talking about._

_Oh, shut up._

He lets out an exasperated sigh. This surprises her. It didn't occur to her that this ridiculously calm human being – at least, he _looks _human – would be capable of actual emotion.

'The box,' he says simply, as if this is an acceptable explanation.

'The box?' The one she threw away? What's that got to do with anything?

Another sigh. She is definitely missing something here. It makes her feel stupid. She doesn't like that.

'Well...I...'

A stammer that makes it hard to pick out proper words. And it continues.

'I...well...it's kinda awkward to ask again...'

_Please get to the point. _Thankfully, his words get more confident, and more bearable.

'I was wondering if you would like to go out, sometime?'

She is so shocked she can only choke out two words. 'With _you?'_

And she's pretty sure she can feel her IQ dropping, more and more by the second. Right now, she wants nothing more than a cloaking device.

He nods. Which is better than stating how obvious the answer was.

Shit.

Seriously, it's a miracle that he can't hear her limbs crack as she freezes. Her 'no' comes out before she can properly engage her brain. And winces at her insensitivity.

He doesn't speak. He's waiting. For an explanation.

Double shit.

Because she can't think of one. It's not that he's bad looking. Or mean. Or old. In fact, if she's really honest with herself, it all comes down to the simple conclusion that –

'We don't have any chemistry.'

Surely he can't take offence to that? It's one of those inevitable things – you're either attracted to someone or you're not, and you can't fake it if it's the latter.

Another silence the size of Jupiter.

'You led me on,' he says coldly. Before abruptly turning away from her.

Now it's _her _turn to be mad.

'Get back here and say that to my face!'

He turns to face her again with an arrogant smirk – or is that a snarl? Something tells her he's not going to let this one go, just like that.

'I thought you were a nice girl. But you're just like all the rest.'

And he's swept away by a current of students. She's seething at the fact that he had the nerve to look down on her. He doesn't even know her. He doesn't have the right.

_Like all the rest? _What's that supposed to mean?

* * *

Bless her best friend that listens and _ums _and _ahs _sympathetically in all the right places. After offloading the gory details of her awkward encounter, she feels slightly better. Slightly.

It must be the ice cream talking – Ben and Jerry are the only men a girl can count on, and even then they can make you _fat – _but she can't take back the words when she mutters a mouse-like 'you're so lucky, Ino.'

'Speak up, Forehead.'

But they both know she heard.

Ino sighs. Denial is futile. 'What exactly is there to be jealous of? You're perfect the way you are, Sakura. And that's a fact.'

She bites her tongue to prevent the instinctive 'so why do you keep trying to change me, then?' from erupting and ruining this heartfelt moment.

What she says instead is: 'You. Sai. Stability.' That's all she can manage without breaking down into pathetic tears.

When Ino is at loss for words – for the first time in her life – and moves over to put an arm around her and rub circles on her back. Which only makes things worse.

When did she evolve into such an emotional _wreck? _

* * *

And a lot to think about, following her accidental confession.

The good news is that Ino has given her a break from this dare – the dare that seems more and more batshit-crazy by the second – to find her sanity. And perhaps a brain cell or two.

The bad news? She still hasn't successfully wormed her way out of it. Yet.

And part of her – the _treacherous_ part – wonders if trying to get out of it is such a good idea. Because if she can pull this off – _really_ pull this off – she knows it will do wonders for her confidence. And it's a healthy distraction.

_A distraction from what? _I hear you ask.

A very good question. And even Sakura herself doesn't know the answer.

Well, she can think of one thing at this precise second.

She wants to make a bolt for her beloved library, because although Sai and Ino are trying their upmost hardest to be inconspicuous, it's the little things that make all the difference. The things they _can't_ turn off. The hand-holding, the adoring stares when they think no one is looking...

_That's what I want._

Her throat becomes dry. She has to get out.

'It's roasting in here, isn't it?'

A discreet line. A quick exit.

Healthy fresh air is lovely and simple. A lot of people take that for granted, these days.

She wonders what it'd be like to be liked by someone nice. Someone straightforward. But she knows such guys don't exist. After all, her old man is a perfect example. She's just grateful that things aren't _more_ complicated.

Enter Itachi Uchiha.

* * *

**Thank you for reading, please read and review (only if you want to, of course). I was wondering, I am having trouble categorising this story – would you class it as Romance/Humour, Romance/Drama, or something else? If you let me know, that'd be great – thanks!**


	7. You Me At Six

**Chapter 7: You Me At Six**

She slowly backs away. Baby steps, so she doesn't look like she's making a break for it – even though that's exactly what she's doing.

_Crash! _She slams her back against some bins. There goes her ninja escape.

Itachi turns sharply. She prays that he hasn't noticed her. But she's made enough noise to awaken the dead. So her chances are pretty slim.

'Sakura?'

Yep, he noticed her.

'You've been avoiding me.'

She gulps, not taking her eyes off the grey tarmac at his feet. The beauty of his Uchiha genes makes even _that _look appealing. Not fair.

'Care to explain why?'

She shakes her head. What is it with boys wanting _answers _all the time? Can't they just accept that things happen?

'I'm not taking no for an answer.'

Apparently not.

Taking her by surprise, he reaches forward to tilt her chin up (when did he get so close?). She prefers to think the blood rushing to her face is because of how warm his hand is, as opposed to – God forbid – his allure. He's got that dark, mysterious thing going on. And judging by his infuriatingly attractive smirk, he knows it.

'Do you want to know what I think?'

She freezes, suddenly dumbstruck. Her gaze never diverts away from his eyes. Eyes that draw you in. Eyes that look like they're turning...red?

'Um...' And just like that, her Ino-trained ability to talk her way out of any situation vanishes.

'I think,' he whispers huskily into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine, 'we have unfinished business.'

And just like that, the familiar light-headed sensation takes over as he kisses her. She has missed being kissed, she admits – albeit begrudgingly – but she knows she should stop, before it gets out of hand. Yet she doesn't.

Because she wants this.

No she doesn't.

_Does_ she?

'This isn't a good idea,' she says remarkably evenly, despite her breath threatening to hitch.

'Name one reason,' he says between kisses.

'You're too old.'

'Girls mature faster. Next.'

'I don't think of you that way.' This isn't very convincing, as she barely suppresses whimper when he nips her collarbone.

'Liar.'

'You're Sasuke's brother.'

He freezes, then brings his face up and level with hers. _Bingo._

'Using me to get to my brother? That's low,' he practically spits.

What is it with Sasuke and Itachi, at each other's throats all the time? The right thing to do would be to walk away. But surely, as Sasuke's _brother, _Itachi has more of a responsibility. One he probably won't be tending to, anytime soon.

'You really think I'd stoop so low?' She doesn't need his approval, but her pride...

'Almost as low as using someone for sex.'

Ouch. But then –

'You're not meant to care – you're a guy!'

He frowns at her. She bites her lip, knowing it was badly worded. Deep breath. She needs to find a way to redeem herself.

'I'm sorry.'

_That's _all she can come up with? It's pathetic.

His face softens. It's a miracle. She doesn't understand his spontaneous transition from animalistic asshole to someone a lot sweeter. But it's a blessing in disguise.

'Well, it _was_ a lot of fun.'

The predatory leer she's on the receiving end of can only be described as bedroom eyes. And an indication that he wants a repeat performance.

She pushes him away roughly and scoffs. 'In an _alleyway?_ Dream on.'

* * *

Her phone buzzes in her pocket. Again. Reminding her of her current predicament.

_Instead of telling him where to go, you're now having _dinner_ with Sasuke's brother? So much for heartbreaker._

_Ino's given me a break from that, remember? __And it was either this, or sex in an alleyway. Classy._

_It's only a matter of time. Remember your rule of no second chances? You've gone soft._

Ignoring the annoying voice in her head, she reaches for her phone to distract herself.

_6 new messages_

She wonders what alternate universe she was trapped in to not notice her phone buzzing _six _whole times. And they're all from –

_Sasuke_

_Sasuke_

_Sasuke_

_Sasuke_

_Sasuke_

_Sasuke_

'Who are you texting?' Itachi's all-too-close voice makes her jump, disgruntled that she's not giving him her full attention. Jealous bastard.

Ignoring an annoying voice for the second time in a row, she starts reading every single message.

_Maths. You're missing it._

_Don't want to let your perfect grades drop now, do you?_

_Ignoring me? Annoying._

_Have you been abducted by aliens?_

_Starting to think you've really been kidnapped..._

_Sakura, where the hell are you?!_

'Have I really been gone that long?' she says aloud, more to herself than anyone. It's not like she's ever skived a lesson before, so she's not used to the protocol. That includes keeping track of the time.

'A few hours,' comes the unexpected reply.

She giggles nervously. He wasn't meant to hear that. In case he started thinking she couldn't wait to get away. Which would be accurate, but –

_Why? What is wrong with you?_

Now _that, _is a very good question. He has a bottomless wallet (this restaurant is all crystal chandeliers and formally-clad waiters, making her feel rather out of place in denim shorts and hoodie) and classic good looks – _wow, you don't sound shallow at all _– but despite the inevitable attraction (it's useless denying it), there's just something a bit _off. _

But that's no excuse for being rude – well, rud_er _than she already has been. She mentally notes that this is time to make amends. And to make it clear that life will be simpler if they don't make a habit of this.

Because really? He's too intense.

She doesn't miss his gaze firmly fixed on her, as she distractedly takes another sip of red wine, drumming her fingers on the table. Call it nerves, but she has no idea what to say. It's tempting to lean over and kiss him again, just so she doesn't have to think about what to do with her mouth.

Her eyes linger on his wrists. A strange swirling symbol adorns his cuffs. It had better not be some cult emblem. It'd be just her luck to date a thug.

_You have this rare ogling opportunity, and you choose to look at his _wrists? _I am ashamed to share a body with you._

'It's the Uchiha crest.'

'Hmm?'

'I caught you staring.' A smirk follows.

_Cocky bastard._

_He was right, though. And of course there's an Uchiha _crest. _I bet there's Uchiha-branded toothpaste, too._

'What is it you do, then? You have more spare time than anyone else your age.'

She should've had this revelation sooner.

'I'm a model.'

_Of course he is._

She bites back a snigger at how girly the words sound.

'Are you for real, or do you say that to pick up girls?'

He frowns. She sighs. No one seems to understand her sense of humour.

_This is why I don't date._

'Sakura?'

A different, yet all-too-familiar voice interrupts her rather philosophical train of thought.

Her fists clench instinctively in her lap. As much as she wants to ram that smiling face into the table, she remembers that public appearances are everything. So she looks up with a plastered smile and a nod. That's all he's getting.

'And who is your charming companion?'

Clearly intent on dragging this out, the man twiddles his cufflinks, showing off the ostentatious diamonds arranged in the shape of a ring. He walks across to Itachi, who takes initiative – standing up, and holding out his hand.

'Itachi Uchiha, sir.'

'An Uchiha? Very impressive.'

Sakura no longer knows who he's talking to. In fact, she no longer knows how to respond. Sound familiar?

But social customs are mandatory. Gesturing to the unwelcome man with the flourish of an arm, she makes an introduction. An unnecessary one, judging by the flicker of recognition in Itachi's eyes. The Haruno circle cufflinks. The pink hair that shows they are bonded by blood. It's obvious.

'Itachi, this is Kizashi Haruno. My father.'

* * *

**I'm really sorry this took so long, but it has taken many attempts for me to be remotely satisfied with this chapter – because you guys deserve the best, right? ;) **

**Hopefully the following updates will be sooner and I will get my act together, but in the meantime, thanks for staying tuned!**

**Wow...I sound like a really cheesy TV ad...**


	8. The Blackout

**Chapter 8: The Blackout**

'Why don't you both join us for dinner?'

These words send waves of panic flooding through her chest. Itachi's a smart guy, surely he'll notice the _save me_ glances she's shooting him behind Kizashi's back?

'That would be wonderful.'

Or not.

'Excellent.'

That's how she finds herself sitting in the VIP room at the back of the restaurant, isolated from the other 'mere mortals'. An unspoken luxury, for some. An ideal place for an inconspicuous murder, is her suspicion.

'It's lovely to see you, Sakura.'

She masks her shock at more company – company that's sitting directly opposite her. With her sleek blonde hair coiled into a tight bun, and baby-blue eyes framed with thick lashes, she reminds Sakura of a pre-Sai Ino.

An uncomfortable lurching of the stomach follows.

'Did you get contacts, Hana?' She's sure her eyes were brown, last time.

Sakura watches her smile falter at this innocent question. Kizashi, showing a hitch in his usual calm-and-collected demeanour, clears his throat. Dangerously.

'It's Naomi.'

Frowning slightly, Sakura opens her mouth to disagree. She remembers every traumatic detail of _that night – _six years, four months, and five days ago. The mere memory causes her to shake, nails digging into her palm, deeply enough to draw blood. But the distraction of pain is better than letting the full force of the memory resurface.

You'd be mentally scarred too, if aged eleven, after returning home from school, you walked in on the man who was supposed to be your reliable, respected male role model, in a most _compromising_ position with a far-too-giggly bimbo, complete with Barbie-wig hair and tramp stamp tattoo. Bearing witness to his husky growls of, 'Mmm Hana, you bad, bad girl!'

When your mother's name was Mebuki.

Can you blame her for shutting the door and running as fast as she could? And for trying to scratch her eyes out for days on end, in a weak attempt to make them un-see what was already imprinted in every corner of her mind, so she could pretend, just for a few more moments, that they were still a happy family, like before? You would _definitely_ remember the name.

She can no longer get the disgusting images out of her head.

Hana was blonde. Hana was thin. Hana had a butterfly tattoo on her lower back, and brown eyes – though admittedly, Sakura didn't see that much of her _face – _and most disturbingly, she can't have been much older than twenty. Just three years older than Sakura currently is herself.

It makes her skin crawl.

Sakura racks her brain for any encounter with a Naomi. But nope, the homewrecker was definitely a Hana. Definitely.

Her recollection is flawless.

The ominous truth dawns on her. If the woman she saw was Hana – and she was undeniably Hana – then this girl is a different one. Equally young, almost identical in appearance. So there have been and will be multiple skanks. How many were there _before _she found out?

It's the classic disguise. A lying, cheating scumbag, masked with a façade of professionalism and sophistication.

She acts quickly, to avoid being caught out. She refuses to be a part of his twisted game.

'Sorry, my mistake. Hana is Itachi's cat.'

Sakura kicks Itachi under the table when he makes a face to protest. Why is she bothering to protect this woman's feelings? Good question.

It's because like Ino, she's harmless enough. Naomi's only crime is having an abysmal taste in men. Sakura only hopes that Naomi can read the _get out while you still can _vibes radiating off her skin.

Her attention drifts to the conversation Kizashi and Itachi are currently having beside her. They seem to show mutual respect and interest towards each other. Her heart sinks. Them hating each other was her last hope.

'If you're the eldest, am I correct in thinking you are to inherit the family company?'

'Indeed. In four years, actually. I already have numerous plans. For example, I wish to invest in Teuchi's Ichiraku chain, and convert it into a global brand.'

'That is indeed impressive. If you wish, I can give you my card. It would be a pleasure to work with you. And of course, you may know I have a little experience myself in starting a business.'

They simultaneously chuckle, as if sharing a private joke.

Do they realise how pretentious they sound? And since when did her – _boo, hiss – _father and her…erm…Itachi share the same vernacular?

In fact, that's not the only similarity. They both have that self-assured air of insufferable confidence. The same trademark smirk, one corner of the lips raised slightly higher than the other in an irritating know-it-all manner. They even drink their same wine in the same way – pinky sticking out, index finger circling the rim of the glass before raising it for tentative sips. She can hardly tell them apart, anymore. It's uncanny.

The words _Electra complex _spring to mind. And make her physically wretch.

After that unmentionable day, since Kizashi was kicked out, Sakura swore he was dead to her, that she would avoid his kind like the plague by learning from her mother's mistakes. And what's she doing? Having dinner with his _clone. _The very thing she always feared.

Itachi chooses this moment to clasp her hand under the table.

* * *

He takes her home like the perfect gentleman, of course – except not quite, because she asks him to drop her off a few streets away from her actual house. She doesn't want to disclose details of yet _another_ place for him to find her, in case she feels like taking some time away from him again.

_Running away, _Inner Sakura chides spitefully.

'I'm sorry you had to go through that. Thanks for taking me home.'

He gives a slightly reserved smile that reminds her of Sasuke. That's why she leans forwards to kiss his cheek. She recoils almost immediately in shock.

Talk about mixed signals.

'You were never told me you were a Haruno,' he remarks casually. Questioningly.

She shrugs. It's uncaring, but she hopes it comes across as apologetic. That's the beauty of a simple shrug – it's open to interpretation.

'Care to explain why?'

A lowering of the eyes, the tightly clasped hands in her lap. She licks her lips. All the classic signs of nerves.

'I don't exactly get along with Kizashi.'

That statement sums it up. It's all he's getting, anyway. So he'd better not ask her to go into further detail. What she wants from him is a soft expression, laced with sympathy.

Instead, he says the worst possible thing.

'Daddy issues? That's hot.' His lips curve into a devilish smirk. It reminds her so much of Kiza–

That's the last straw. She punches him square in the jaw and legs it.

* * *

A hot shower is meant to bring clarity to the foggiest of minds.

So why does she still feel dirty, dirty, _dirty?_ Simple.

She can't get these images of Itachi out of her head. Before, that would have been a welcome thought. But now?

They all start off with Itachi's handsome, smirking face. Yet one way or another, they eventually find a way to morph into Kizashi's trademark sneer. Which leads to thoughts of Kizashi's seedy endeavours that make _her _sneer. The sheer sleaziness makes her shudder, and suspect that Itachi is the very same.

And she _slept _with that man.

If there ever was a good time for a psychological meltdown, now would be it. The very thought of dating someone even remotely like her f-father – let alone someone with as many uncanny similarities as Itachi – makes her feel unclean, diseased, as if parasites are crawling all over her skin, penetrating the vulnerable layers beneath.

She turns the dial to the highest heat setting.

Scratching at her arms, she feels the blistering heat where the water attacks every inch of her skin. It's mild relief, temporarily. But by the end, she still feels infected, contaminated, and is left sobbing on the shower floor.

Her arms are red-raw.

She forces an expression of indifference onto her face. Standing up shakily, she drapes a towel over her body, and eyes her dishevelled form in the mirror.

Bloodshot eyes. Haunted expression.

Disgust creeps over her. She allowed a mere _man_ to reduce her to _this_ state.

It's clear what she must do next, to gain the upper hand.


	9. One Night Only

**Chapter 9: One Night Only**

'What did you do this time, Haruno?'

Being the mistress of deception – as she has now dubbed herself – Sakura has perfected the smile of feigned innocence.

'I don't know what on earth you could possibly be talking about, Sasuke.'

He snorts in disbelief. It's so irritating when he thinks he knows better. There's no need to admit that he's probably right.

'Then how do you explain my brother's spontaneous black eye and newfound unwillingness to talk to and about you?'

She fights a telltale smirk. That would give the game away.

'You seem pretty sure you know the answer.'

He gives her that piercing stare. The one that says _you can't fool me. _And he's right – he's genetically equipped with bullshit repellent. And he deserves the truth. He's her _friend._

'It's not my fault all guys suck.'

Up cocks an eyebrow.

'Except you,' she adds quickly. Her words are met with a satisfied smirk. She thinks about the best way to wipe it off his stupid smug, perfect face.

_Perfect?_

* * *

'I'm in.'

_Pop!_

An obnoxiously pink bubble pops in her face, before Ino resumes chewing with an air of indifference.

'What are you talking about, Forehead?'

'The dare. I'm going to finish it.' _Tear at least one guy to shreds, _she silently adds.

It's like that conversation she had with her mother, right after Kizashi left – or was forced to. The words said are words she has always held close to her heart.

_'Men are vile creatures, Sakura. They'll break your heart.'_

_'Not if I break theirs first.'_

Far be it from Ino to be suspicious. Her face breaks out into a wide smile.

'I knew you had it in you.'

'Let's start with a bang. Teach me, Yoda.'

Ino's only too willing to live vicariously.

* * *

'Don't even think about doubting me, Sakura. You know you're a knockout.'

Sakura fixes on her best smile, resisting the niggling urge to smooth out the (imaginary) creases in her (borrowed) crop top and skirt combo. Tight enough to be a second skin. Surely no harm will be done if she pulls it down to cover more of her backside…

'I know what you're thinking. Don't. You have legs to die for. And you're wearing my boots.'

She nods in a conceding manner, allowing Ino to fix her tousled waves – now vaguely reminding her of candyfloss – and apply a thin coat of lipgloss. With nowhere to look but her feet, she begrudgingly admits that the boots look amazing. Sleek, black, shiny. She feels very shiny at the moment, like a doll.

* * *

'Before I show you where I've taken you, I want you to promise me something.'

Alarm bells ring. Ino wouldn't mention it, unless it was something suspicious.

'You're not going to like everything. But you're going to have to trust me, because I know best.'

A grunt of acknowledgement. Or surrender.

_What's the worst that could happen?_

The blindfold is removed.

The lights are too bright. The music's too loud. The sea of bodies is flooding towards them, creeping closer and closer.

In that instant, her resolve breaks. What is she doing here? Why is she putting herself through this? How on earth did she think she could handle it?

Her heart thumps harder and harder against her chest. Ribs will break from the sheer force. She turns around to give Ino a piece of her mind.

She's gone.

There's no way out. It's the dance floor or the bar. Weighing out her options, she makes her decision and starts walking.

* * *

One tequila –

Two tequila –

Three tequila –

_Floor._

But not quite. A strong arm wraps around her waist and pulls her upright.

'Steady there, wouldn't want to hurt that pretty face of yours.'

Sober Sakura would cringe outright at this slick line. Drunk Sakura finds it slightly charming that he's flirting with her. It must mean he finds her attractive. Attractive enough to want to get in her pants, at least.

'Thank you so much,' she practically gushes, eyes wide, smile sweet. Screw dignity, she's putting Ino's bimbo-klutz moves to the test, to see if guys actually fall for this rubbish.

They do. A slow smile spreads across his face, as if he thinks he's the prime tactician. 'So what's your name, gorgeous?'

She twirls a pink lock around her finger. You would think by now, that this sort of attention wouldn't faze her. You'd be wrong. Words like 'gorgeous' still summon a reaction. In her current hazy state, she's pleased by the compliment.

'Amber. What about you, stranger?'

Not that she has any intention of remembering it.

'Kakashi.'

Why does that name sound familiar?

'Kakashi,' she repeats. He smiles, as if he likes the way the word rolls off her tongue.

'Can I buy you a drink? Anything but tequila.' He laughs, and she does the same, finding his euphoria very…melodic.

'I've got a better idea.' she says, straightening up as a fire spreads through her.

He tilts his head towards her, to show that he's listening.

'We're clearly attracted to each other. But I'm not looking for anything more long-term than tonight.' She wonders where all the confidence has suddenly come from. It must be the alcohol talking. But she's not finished.

'So let's cut the crap, and take what we're both after. What do you say?'

If he says 'no' now, it will be a massive blow to her ego.

'Sounds perfect.'

That's why she finds herself being led to as secluded a corner as you can get in this mass of strobe lights.

Heat.

Sweat.

Running out of breath.

Stuck between him and the wall like a sandwich filling, with his and her roaming hands, and her head spinning and spinning, she can't remember where the boundaries are. Where her body ends and his begins. Maybe because they're snogging profusely in a predatory fashion. _Basically having sex with clothes on. _

His snakelike touch slithers under her skin-tight red top. Slowly crawls its way up, up, up. It stops just short of groping her, and a low chuckle escapes his lips.

'No bra?'

'Bra lines don't go with this top.' She shrugs.

An all-too-familiar smirk creeps onto his features. A sinking feeling arises, akin to that of a trapped rat.

'You're a bad, bad girl,' he says in a husky growl. One he evidently thinks is sexy, but –

The images resurface. You know the ones. They really make all men from the same mould, don't they?

She shoves him off her like his presence burns. Hears a chorus of 'what the fucks' as he smashes headfirst into the crowd. But it seems to sober him up.

Blinking dazedly, he eyes her with suspicion, as if glancing upon an unknown specimen for a first time. _Like an object – typical._

'Sakura?'

She opens her mouth, gaping like a fish. How did he…? The realisation then hits her.

'Sensei?'

Shit.

_'What are you doing here?' _they shriek in sync.

* * *

**I feel like I should remove the 'Romance' category, given Sakura's emotionally chaotic state. Thoughts?**


End file.
